Toowoomba to Kingaroy

It was Friday morning, clear and sunny, as we pulled out of our free camp at Cecil Plains with Toowoomba in our sights, just a shortish drive away. The lure of one of southern Queensland’s largest centres was too much and there were a few things we needed to do there. Toowoomba is one of those towns, sure of its place in the world, so much so that the provision of signage for out-of-towners is not considered a major concern. Have you driven into a town looking for the information centre, which has no signage to it? It took us an hour of bisecting the place this way and that before we found it (we entered from a direction other than from Brisbane – who would do that?!) by which time we felt we had had quite enough. A central caravan park was secured and with Prado unleashed we set about unearthing the real Toowoomba for dinner. We ended up persuading a charming Indian lady to reopen her shop at 7:30 so we could sample her Vindaloo.

Toowoomba’s real charms were to be found the next day, and we walked and drove all of the

heritage trails, finding some fine old houses and tracing the history of the town, finishing up at Picnic Point overlooking the escarpment. Much is made of the dreaded Art Deco and many Victorian buildings were made over in the 30’s, one or two OK but some awful butchery used to go on. Cossard’s Saddlery was one such (but well converted) and we stepped inside to meet the family of the original owners who started the business in the late 19thC. Moving somewhat with the times, but still carrying some harness gear for effect, the shop was abuzz with aero modelers. Hanging amongst the leather work at exciting attitudes of supposed flight were many quite superb radio controlled model aircraft with wings up to two metres across. Looking very sexy to a one time modeler who never completely got over it, I couldn’t help but get into conversation with the owner’s son who advanced my understanding of the changes since 1960.

No more tissue paper, no more dope, no more balsa cement! They were busy that morning packing up stock to take to a weekend meeting that was happening at Dalby, an hour away. What better way to spend Sunday? We arrived there Sunday morning and were greeted most warmly and made very welcome. An extraordinary set up, with large clubhouse, 100 metre long landing strip, major car park where many caravans had been set up by visiting competitors. We were given free coffee and instruction in a sport/hobby that has worldwide connections and presents amazing challenges in aerobatic flying, accurate scale models – accurate in that the weight and power of the model must equal the scaled value of the original too- and many other aspects. Well, it would be an affordable pastime, good for manual dexterity, would challenge the brain (and the eyesight), and can be constructed on wintery evenings when the wife is watching crime on the telly.

With just a couple of hours of daylight left we said our goodbyes and aimed for the Bunya Mountains NP, back into the hills along steep Devon-like lanes. Up at about 650 metres alt. there is a lovely grassed clearing with excellent facilities and NP headquarters, all to be had for $10. Surrounded by dense subtropical forest, with the largest stand of Bunya pines in the world, mixed with some Hoop Pine, Eucalyptus, Angophora and those dreadful but fine looking Stinging trees, we ventured into the dark groves for a short walk. Helen was wearing a vibrant blue coat and as we headed into the forest a Satin Bowerbird, on the edge of the pathway, and eyeing her cautiously, began a sideways shuffle with little steps and a suggestive manner. You know they adore anything blue! A hundred metres on we heard a child further along the path making a hell of a wailing, but no, it was a Cat bird. This bird has to be heard to be believed; two or three were calling as the sun began setting through the dense canopy.

We had a cold night again, with everything damp the next morning from our breath – too cold for open windows. But standing with our bowls of porridge in hand two Regent Bowerbirds landed nearby, resplendent black and yellowest yellow you can imagine. The Currawongs had emptied our rubbish bag and spread the contents everywhere –such lovely vandals they are.

The climb down out of the NP had to be managed carefully, even using low range for a short distance. The weather was overcast and rain was about. Kingaroy next stop, home of Sir Joh and Lady Flo complete with pumpkin scone recipes, and a cheese factory where peanuts (of course), Queensland wine (Victorians remove the smirk from your faces), locally made cheeses and fudge were being touted. Lots of fun and their line on wine is that they are doing the forward marketing for the Victorian wine industry and by the time global warming is really biting they’ll be way ahead. I think they were serious. When you see how much coal is being dug out of this State you would think there was no tomorrow. Did I say that?!